


Finesse

by yanatya



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, PWP, Standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-24
Updated: 2002-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanatya/pseuds/yanatya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mistletoe! Holiday punch! Sex!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finesse

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through Season 2.
> 
> [](http://www.thejeds.net/) _Second Place, [The Jeds](http://www.thejeds.net/): Outstanding PWP/Smutfic._

The taste of his own morning breath in his mouth was so foul that it actually woke him up. He gasped and his eyes flew open, consciousness crashing in on him suddenly.

All he was aware of was the bright morning sunlight glaring through the room. Groaning, he shut his eyes again, welcoming back the darkness, and took stock of his body. He felt like crap. His arms were aching with pins and needles, and his back felt like it had been arched until it bent completely double, like it always did when he slept on his stomach. And the taste in his mouth... He smacked his lips a couple of times and ran his dry, slimy tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to get his saliva flowing again.

Bleah.

He considered relocating to the bathroom immediately, even though it meant opening his eyes again, just to brush the taste out of his mouth. What had he been drinking?

Awareness crawled in on him, supplying moments of the previous evening in tiny inexorable pieces. Christmas party. Christmas punch. Deadly red Christmas punch.

His bed shifted and grunted a bit. From the sound of it, his bed hadn't had the greatest night either. That was okay. He was going to go bother Mr. Bathroom in a minute, when his eyes felt like opening, so Mr. Bed would get the chance to relax by himself...

Now he was anthropomorphizing inanimate objects. The only difference between him and a two year old was the fact that he could spell the word 'anthropomorphizing'.

Having made that clarification in his mind, he groaned again and tried to ignore his morning breath. Things might look better if he slept a little longer...

His attention wandered idly back to Mr. Bed. Mr. Bed was awfully soft. He nestled his cheek down into the softness. Mr. Bed apparently had silk sheets, which was strange because he didn't own silk sheets. And Mr. Bed smelt a whole heck of a lot like a woman.

That was the weirdest part, because Mr. Bed hadn't seen a woman in months. He was pretty sure he'd even changed the sheets a couple of times since then. Hmm. He snuggled his head into the softness again to think, and became aware of a rough patch on Mr. Bed, just under where his mouth had rested the night before.

He'd drooled, he knew it without looking, and the drool had dried and crusted. He should try and scratch that off, so it didn't leave a stain...

Except his arms were immobile...aching a little bit and definitely trapped. He decided to focus on that problem in a moment, once the drool issue had been taken care of. He rubbed his morning stubble across the patch of drool, hoping to scrape it off.

And realized that something soft yet scratchy was pressed against his neck.

******

She was having another sex dream. This time it was a period piece, where she played the fair maiden being sold to satisfy the depraved cravings of a rich lord. Which was a twisted fantasy, the part of her that always remained rational while she dreamed pointed out. If the lord was reasonably attractive, under fifty, and loaded, surely he could be getting it for free. He didn't need to purchase a blonde, nubile slave girl.

The dream had been persistent and repetitive, though. She was stretched out on her back on his bed, her legs spread apart for him and pinned gently but firmly, so that she remained exposed and open to him. She was warm, though, as if a big, heavy blanket had been settled over the lower half of her body. Her lord hadn't used her, only prepared her for his pleasure. Occasionally something would tug under one of her thighs, urging her hips upwards. Tilting her. Adjusting her. Angling her so that he would be able to enter her comfortably when he chose to.

Being prepared like this was quite arousing, but she couldn't seem to slip herself totally into the fantasy. The part of her that remained rational during her dreams was now pointing out that she must be in bad shape, because the rich lord coming to ravish her had Josh's face. She groaned and shifted. Possibly she had been drinking last night. In her sex dreams Josh inevitably appeared, but she could usually make him go away by thinking about a movie star like Rob Lowe or Christian Slater. This time, though, she couldn't make Josh go away. She was definitely hurting.

Her dream continued on. Her lover, who looked remarkably like Josh but who wasn't Josh, she reminded herself, leaned down over her, slid an arm under one of her thighs, and tilted the cradle of her pelvis upwards towards him. She felt her sex flood with warmth and wetness in anticipation of his next move. Screw it, she thought. I'm just going to enjoy this.

Her lover descended towards her and she lay on his bed, helpless yet completely relaxed, open and wet and ready for him.

Until he pulled out a piece of sandpaper and started sanding down her stomach.

*****

"Gah!" yelped Mr. Bed.

Josh's eyes shot open and he winced in the morning light. Mr. Bed was definitely moving. He craned his head in the direction of the sound and looked up...way up...past the smooth pale plain of female skin his cheek was resting against...past the soft mounds of flesh cupped into gently rounded hills by a no-nonsense white cotton bra....to the golden sun of blonde hair that was rising over the hills...

As his pissed-off, mussed assistant propped herself up on her elbows and gazed down at him in utter shock.

"Josh!"

His eyes widened as he realized just where he was and just what--who--he was sleeping on. "Donna!"

She wriggled, trying to free herself from the weight of his upper body pinning down her lower body, but he was still too stunned to cooperate.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, giving up.

"I live here!" He looked around the bedroom quickly to confirm his assertion. At least he had gotten something right.

She flopped back on the pillows. "Oh, god. Then what am I doing here?" she asked the ceiling.

He took note of their position. His arms were pinned under her thighs. Oh god. He knew for a fact that he only slid his hands under a woman's thighs if he was going to support her hips, and he only supported a woman's hips for two reasons. Judging by the proximity of his head to her navel, he was going to go with Reason Number Two.

Some survival instinct inside him suggested that he refrain from mentioning Reason Number Two at that particular moment. Instead, he attempted to lift himself off her, trying not to think about the very warm part of her that was nestled against his collarbone. His arms, however, were still pinned under her legs, a fact she was apparently unaware of.

"Uh, Donna?"

Her head rose over her breasts as she propped up on her elbows again. She looked down at him, properly this time. "Oh, god." She reached down to tug something from beside his ear.

"Wha...Ow!"

"How the hell did mistletoe end up in my underwear?" she demanded.

"And tangled in my hair," he grumbled.

She flopped back on the bed again, studying the offending plant.

"Donna, could you..."

Her legs and hips lifted, freeing his arms, and he sighed in grateful relief...right into the crotch of her panties.

She yelped again.

"Sorry! Sorry...they...it...was just there, and my arms..."

Her hips landed back on the bed with a thump, and he decided the best course of action was to shut the hell up, now that his arms were free.

Free and throbbing, now that blood flow was being restored. He couldn't move them; the muscles had cramped during the night, and he had the grandfather of all cases of pins and needles.

He crawled up the bed far enough to collapse on his back beside her. "Oh, god, my arms," he muttered. "They won't even move."

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, still choosing to look at the ceiling instead of him. "I didn't know. I think we were both pretty..."

"Yeah," he agreed.

Silence fell then, and after a couple of moments she wriggled her hips a bit to make sure she hadn't had any blood flow problems during the night. She realized, embarrassed, that her legs were still spread wide and she pressed them together selfconsciously. Thankfully, he didn't notice. His breathing became shallow and regular as he drifted off and she curled up on her side next to him. She quickly fell asleep too, this time free of dreams.

*****

When she awoke again, he was gazing at her. Disconcerted by the look in his eyes, she tossed the mistletoe at him. "Is there any chance we could blame this all on John?"

"Marbury?" Josh thought back to last night's Christmas party, when the drunken Lord had staggered into the party with a large piece of mistletoe tucked conspicuously into his belt buckle.

"He was very funny," Donna recalled.

"'I always insist that women kiss me underneath the mistletoe'?" Josh repeated incredulously.

"It was cute," Donna insisted.

"How does he say something like that, accompanied by a little hip thrust, I might add, and not get hauled away for sexual harassment?"

"He's a charming man."

"Whatever."

"You obviously thought it was funny. Why else would this mistletoe end up tucked in my..."

Josh cleared his throat violently. "I'm going to go brush my teeth."

"I thought you couldn't move your arms."

"So it'll take a while." He beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

Donna sat up, more refreshed from her nap than she had been from her night's sleep, and looked around for her clothing. No such luck. Her blouse and slacks were nowhere to be found. Whatever had happened last night hadn't gotten far, though, since she still had on her bra and panties and Josh was still wearing his undershirt and boxers. They must have started, then fallen asleep part way through.

She reflected dryly that perhaps their apparent sexual chemistry was overestimated.

Deciding that her own morning breath was too disgusting to live with, she followed Josh into the bathroom to search for the toothbrush she kept there.

"Hey," she said, nudging him out of the way so that she could retrieve her things from the cabinet under his sink.

"Hey," he said with a mouthful of frothing toothpaste. He spat and rinsed, but made no move to leave.

She started to brush her own teeth and became aware of him studying her in the mirror. True, she was only wearing her bra and panties, but since he'd already had an eyeful of that this morning, it shouldn't make any difference now. Then she realized that he was focusing on one particular part of her anatomy in particular.

She took a moment to spit and rinse her own mouth before looking down, following the path of his eyes to the soft curve of her stomach until she realized what he was looking at.

"Ew, gross!" She scratched away the dried spittle. "You drooled on me!"

"Sorry," he offered sheepishly.

"Josh, that's so...ew..."

"Hey!" he protested, offended. "Judging from the position we ended up in this morning, you were about to get a hell of a lot more drool on you, in a whole bunch of interesting places."

She blushed. "I'm just saying..."

"Not to mention other bodily fluids!"

She stopped talking then, her eyes wide. He went silent too, seeming as shocked as she was by what he'd said.

Finally she offered, "We were drunk."

He sighed. "Yeah."

"And you think we both fell asleep right as you were going to..." She motioned with her hand.

"Yeah," he said, uncomfortable. "I'm pretty sure I was warming up to that...peeling off your...ah...underwear...with my teeth, then going back to..." He motioned with his hand too.

She watched his hand move, then looked at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, then finally met his gaze. "That's a good technique you have worked out there," she said softly.

His eyes darkened with arousal, realizing what she was trying to say. "I like to use a little finesse," he answered. "Rather than go stampeding towards the...your..."

She reached up and put a hand on his arm, which was hardly aching at all now. "That sounds like a good idea."

He put his hand on her other arm. "Unless we're both so drunk that we spontaneously fall asleep."

"Yeah, that would suck." She offered him a small smile, stepping closer, and the warmth of her breath ticked his face.

"It would be much better if we were sober, and well rested," he murmured.

"Yes..." she whispered, her lips almost close enough to taste.

"Then we could..."

"Finesse," she breathed, then let her lips meet his.

His warm, toothpaste-flavoured mouth welcomed hers. Slowly, his tongue traced her lips before slipping inside. Her fingers danced up his beleagured arms, caressing his muscles gently in an apology for hurting them. His arm slid around her waist, drawing her body flush with his, and she responded by deepening their kiss. He groaned and walked them backwards until he crashed into the bathroom doorway.

"Ow."

She opened her eyes and realized what had happened. "Whoops. I'm sorry, I should have noticed that," she chuckled.

"I can see there's going to be a certain amount of pain in this relationship," he observed.

She smiled, mostly because he'd used the 'r' word. "I'll try to take better care of you," she promised.

His lips curved upwards as he leaned in to kiss her again. "I'm not sure if that's possible."

Her smile changed to a grin. "Let's go back to bed and see." She laughed as he wrapped his other arm around her waist as well and lifted her off her feet, walking them both back to the bed.

*****

They landed on the bed in a heap and she immediately rolled them onto their sides. Hooking a leg over his hip she pulled him closer, intent on getting to some serious making out.

Pieces of the previous night were coming back to her, and she remembered thinking that even drunk, Josh Lyman was a pretty good kisser. Now that they were both sober, she realized that he was more than pretty good: his kisses were amazing. Moaning, she responded to him with all the passion she could muster, almost relieved when she heard him make a noise of his own and pull her tighter against him.

The kissing had been responsible for the previous nights activities, she remembered. Everyone had been at least a little tipsy from Margaret's special Christmas punch. CJ had found some mistletoe, and being in a party mood, she'd started wandering around demanding kisses.

CJ had been trying to tease a kiss out of Toby when Josh had stumbled up, laughing, and said, "Claudia Jean, you don't know how long I've waited for this moment!" He'd snatched the mistletoe out of her hand and grabbed her, dipping her deep over his arm as he kissed her.

Everyone had laughed at them, including Donna, but before Josh could take it any further, Lord Marbury had made his entrance, sporting mistletoe on his belt and uttering the most cheesy mistletoe line in history. Josh let CJ up and Marbury had swung her into his arms immediately, saying something that had her laughing raucously even as he imitated Josh and dipped her low for a kiss.

Josh had juggled the mistletoe from hand to hand thoughtfully for a few moments before getting a predatory look in his eye, dangling the sprig over his own head, and making a beeline for Toby. Everyone else made way for him, laughing.

Toby quickly made it clear he wasn't going to let himself be dipped, let alone kissed, and Josh turned on the crowd of staffers, looking for another victim. They all laughed as he started towards one person, then another, the crowd scattering wherever he took a step.

After a minute or so, Donna decided he'd had enough time being the centre of attention and set out to end his antics. She snuck up behind him and snatched the mistletoe away. A cheer and applause went up from the crowd as she dove into it, cackling, Josh hard on her heels.

She turned this way and that, trying to lose him by dodging around clusters of people, but the crowd was laughingly making way for both of them. For a moment she'd thought she'd lost him as she entered the empty bullpen. Then the door swung open and he charged in and she was off again, gasping and laughing, sidling between desks and through cubicles.

He caught up with her just outside his office, grabbing her waist with one hand while trying to snatch the mistletoe with the other. She stretched up on her toes and bent backwards, using the support of his arm around her to extend her hand far out of his reach.

He realized she was using him to keep her balance and let go of her for a precious second, just long enough for her to teeter. As she began to fall backwards, arms flailing, he caught her again, this time with both arms wrapping around her, and brought her back to a standing position.

Breathless, her lips curved up in an impish smile, and he smiled back. There was something inscrutable in his eyes, though, and instead of letting her go he tightened his arms around her. Without thinking of the consequences, she raised her hand, still clutching the mistletoe, and showed it to him, then dangled it over their heads.

He leaned forward then and so did she, her outstretched arm dropping down to wind around his neck. Their lips met softly once, then again, lingering a bit longer.

Then he hauled her into his office, slammed the door, and pressed her up against the wall, devouring her mouth with his. The mistletoe had tumbled to the ground, forgotten for many long minutes.

They'd remembered to pick it up when they put their coats on. By unspoken accord, they'd decided to go back to the party to say goodbye to everyone before leaving.

That might have been a mistake, she mused. The party had been far from over. People were still laughing and talking, flushed with alcohol and good humour, and they'd each got caught up in different conversations and an extra glass or two of Margaret's punch while trying to say goodbye.

None of that really mattered now, though, she thought. Now they were necking like teenagers, and she'd just managed to slide her hand down the back of Josh's boxers and give his ass a good squeeze.

*****

He was both laughing and groaning as he attempted to shift Donna's grasping hands, and decided to retaliate by getting her clothes off: that was an important step in his immediate plans anyway.

He recalled the feel of her skin the night before, when he'd backed her up against a wall and put his hands to good use stroking and squeezing and fondling with every part of her he could reach under her clothes. He remembered wondering whether he'd be able to go down on her right there, in his office, without getting caught, and was thankful he hadn't been drunk enough to attempt it.

She was here now, though, and nothing and noone was going to interrupt them. Slipping his fingers under the straps of her bra, he located the clasp and unsnapped it. She released his ass long enough to slip it off, and he began suckling one ripe nipple even before she'd finished doing so. She squeaked at the sensation, but he grasped her torso firmly to hold her in place. One thumb came up to flick her other nipple and she nearly shrieked with shock. Slowly he removed his mouth, tugging the hard little nub with him as he left, and looked up at her gasping face.

Confirming that she was enjoying what he was doing, he let his hands massage the soft mounds gently, taking a moment to feel their gentle weight and shape against his palms. She was utterly perfect, he realized again. Everything about her was amazing. Dipping his head, he took her other nipple in his mouth and began to suck on it gently. Her hands crushed his head to her chest and he took that as a sign to suck harder.

As he increased his efforts she gave another little shriek and he felt her hips buck. He decided that it was time to change tactics. Some other day he would drive her crazy doing nothing but playing with her breasts. This time, he wanted to touch and taste her.

He rolled, taking her with him so that she laid under him, and sank his hands into her panties. She gasped, arching towards him, and he kissed her open mouth as his fingers stripped off the last barrier, then returned to slide through the folds of her sex. His thumbs stroked her and teased her, then he slipped two fingers inside her, easily finding her spot.

Over and over he stroked, setting a slow easy rhythm, until she was shuddering under him with unreleased tension. She began chanting his name, but he refused to speed his caresses, keeping her near the edge of pleasure second after second, minute after minute. Finally a look of glazed pleasure appeared in her eyes and he withdrew his hands from her, and slipped out of her grasp.

She gasped his name in shock. "Josh! Don't stop..."

His mouth descended on her sex then, devouring the salty fluid in her folds. His fingers slipped back inside her and he rolled her clitoris between his lips, pinching it very gently. He built a rhythm again, faster, more urgent than before, until she was thrusting herself up against his mouth, her hand on the back of his head to keep him in place. He obliged, suckling her fiercely while he slipped a third finger inside her to stretch her.

When she came she was screaming, loud, unintellible cries that went on and on, exploding in a wash of wet and powerful contractions around his fingers. He didn't let up; he kept sucking and thrusting until her orgasm finished crashing around her.

She was amazing in every way. There was no other word for it.

*****

She was panting and exhausted, completely wrung out from her climax. As she sucked in breath after welcome breath, she wasn't sure she'd have energy for another orgasm ever again.

Finally her breathing slowed and she felt herself coming back to earth. A pleasant languor had sunk into her limbs and she became aware of the soft mattress supporting her.

She opened her eyes and saw Josh's grinning face directly above hers.

"Mmmmm," was all she could manage with a lazy smile.

His grin grew wider. "How you doing?"

"Pretty okay. You?"

"Not bad."

"Mmmm," she said again, closing her eyes to gather her strength. She'd sleep later. Right now it was payback time.

"Say, Donna?" he asked.

She cracked one eyelid. "Just two questions, Josh," she said, letting her hands drift down to his hips.

"Yeah?" He leaned down over her. "Fire away," he mumbled against her skin.

"How are your arms?"

"Not bad," he said confidently.

She recognized his tone of voice, though. It meant that he was covering. Not a problem. Her plan didn't call for him using his arms much.

"Okay, that's good," she said, still using her sleepy voice.

"What's the other question?" he asked, leaning in to give her a long slow kiss.

When he pulled away, her moan was mostly involuntary. "Mmmmm..."

He kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly. Their hands moved over each other's bodies, and she made sure she had a good place to grip.

When they finally broke apart, she murmured against his lips, "One more question."

"What is it?" he whispered back.

She grasped his hips tightly then and rolled them quickly so that he was flat on his back.

He looked a little stunned at the sudden change of events, but she didn't given him time to think. Sitting up, she straddled him and stripped off his undershirt. Then she began crawling down his body, tugging off his boxers and allowing his erection to spring free.

"Okay," he said, a little puzzled. "I can work with this." He began to sit up, but she pushed him back down. Starting at his knees, she began to kiss her way across her legs and up his thighs. When she reached the place where his leg ended and his pelvis began she dragged her tongue along it and his body went limp. "Oh, god, Donna..." he mumbled, staring at the ceiling.

She grinned. There was no way he could expect to do what he'd just done to her and not suffer the consequences. She used her tongue to trace the outer edge of his groin up to the flat surface of his lower belly, then kissed her way up his chest to find his neck.

"Donna..." he began.

She flung one leg over his and climbed on top of him, letting the tight curls that covered her sex come into contact with his cock. She moved back and forth on top of him a couple of times, letting the softness of her mound and thighs stroke him. He groaned, whatever he'd been about to say completely forgotten, and she took the opportunity to nip at his ears and plant kisses down his jaw. Slowly she worked her way down his neck to his chest and felt his hands wind in her hair.

Not wanting to make a big deal about the scar on his chest, the scar which had once been a wound she'd seen open and bleeding, she kissed her way along the sealed skin methodically, from top to bottom, then moved to his nipples.

As she tugged one, then the other, between her teeth, she let her hands slide down to grasp his erection. She stroked it lightly as she finished lavishing attention on his chest, then wriggled further down, letting her mouth mark a trail back to his groin.

When she reached the base of his erection she gave it a wet kiss, then moved down to find his scrotum. She took his balls into her mouth gently, giving them the care they deserved with her tongue. He let out another incoherent sound of pleasure, and she took that as a sign to spend a little more time with them.

When she finally released them he made a noise of protest, but she turned her attention to the proud, erect cock in front of her. She licked the underside up its length, then propped herself up so that she could watch Josh as she leaned down to take him in his mouth.

His face was etched with amazement as she licked off the salty drop of liquid that had already escaped him. Pleased with the expression on his face, she went further, causing his hips to buck involuntarily as she suckled the tip tenderly.

His fingers tangled in her hair again and she let him guide her as her mouth moved up and down his length. One of her hands reached down to caress his balls as she worked on him. As his moans became louder and his hands in her hair more insistent, she threw herself into her task, swirling her tongue around his length, letting her fingers and mouth move in tandem so that he was never without sensation.

Faster and harder she went, steadily increasing her pace until suddenly he pulled her mouth off him, crying, "No!" She stopped immediately, removing her hands from him as well. Giving him a slow, seductive smile, she took a moment to watch him as he panted and stared at her wide-eyed, trying to get himself back under control.

*****

"Oh, god, Donna, you're going to kill me one of these days..." he finally said.

Unrepentant, she chuckled. "But what a way to go."

He laughed weakly. "I suppose."

"So my second question..."

"Oh, god, woman..."

"Is what I'm looking for in the drawer of your nightstand?"

"Yes, yes it is," he said emphatically.

"Excellent." She grinned, satisfied, and reached past him to pull open the drawer. He let his mouth dip down and capture one of her nipples as she did so and she squeaked in surprise.

She grabbed what she was looking for, slammed the drawer shut, and pulled away from him, taking her breast with her.

"Hey, I wasn't done with that," he joked.

"I can't concentrate when you do that," she said. "You can have it back in a second."

He snickered and took the package from her. Sitting up a bit, he tore it open and rolled the sheath down his length. "There," he said. "All dressed up..."

She climbed on top of him again, straddling him. "And I have a pretty good idea where he's going to go," she snickered.

He rolled his eyes briefly, but all humour left his face as she positioned herself over him, grasping his cock. She teased her folds with his length once or twice, then slipped the tip inside her. She descended slowly, letting herself adjust to his size as he entered her, sinking down until he was fully seated in her.

He was large and fit inside her snugly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a moment to acknowledge that after all this time, she finally had Josh Lyman inside her. A new jolt of arousal shot through her and her inner muscles contracted, squeezing him tightly.

She looked down at his amazing, cherished face. "Ready?" she asked.

He was already gritting his teeth. "Please move."

She did, sliding up and down on him, using slow, long strokes at first, but gradually speeding up until she was riding him with short, quick movements. He writhed under her, eventually grasping her hips so that he could thrust up into her as she sank down. Working together they took him deeper and deeper into her body.

He grabbed her arms then and pulled her down towards him, changing the angle of penetration and bringing her mouth within kissing distance again. She moaned as he sent one hand down to help guide her thrusts in this new position. His other hand brought her in for a long kiss.

Their mouths echoed the movement of their bodies, conveying the warmth and tenderness that accompanied their passion. When they finally broke apart for air, she was overwhelmed by the emotion they'd shared and drew back to study his face.

His eyes answered every question she had.

Realizing that, she sat up, changing the angle of their lovemaking again. Grabbing his hands for balance, she started riding him with long, hard thrusts.

He groaned as she slammed down on him over and over. As she found her rhythm she started moaning in time to her movements. He let go of one of her hands and covered her sex, finding the tiny little nub that was the centre of her pleasure and rubbing tiny rhythmic circles on it.

Her thrusts became more frantic and disjointed as she climaxed in a frenzied rush of movement, shouting his name. Watching her come again was almost enough to send him over the edge, but he held out, wanting to savour the look on her face.

When she was finished, though, he didn't wait for her to recover. Rolling them again so that she was on her back, he began thrusting in earnest. Her legs came up to circle his hips and he paused a moment to lift them higher, over his shoulders. Then he set a rapid pace, pumping his cock into her quickly, with short hard strokes. She clutched at him, eyes wide, and her moans joined his again as he drove harder and deeper than before.

When he finally came he cried out her name at the top of his voice, arching into her as far as he could possibly go as he exploded inside her.

"Oh, god," he breathed. She could only mumble incoherently and let him collapse in her waiting arms.

*****

She woke up while he was in the bathroom getting rid of the condom and managed to stay awake until he came back to bed.

He slid in beside her and drew the covers up around them both.

"Hey," she said, suddenly unaccountably shy.

"What happened to the mistletoe?" he asked with a little smile.

"No idea."

"Well, it's not like we really needed it."

She suddenly grinned. "Though now, for some reason, I want to get a little mistletoe tattoo right under my belly button."

He snickered as he reached down to tickle her belly and she giggled a bit.

"Save your money. I always...." He motioned with his hand.

"Use finesse?"

"Something like that."

"Me too."

He chuckled.

She snuggled up against him and he put his arm around her. They kissed for a few more minutes before drifting off to sleep.

  
THE END


End file.
